


Breath

by panda_hiiro



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_hiiro/pseuds/panda_hiiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sollux refuses to participate in a swimming match and Eridan shows how good he is at pushing buttons. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [level-devil](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=level-devil).



"What's the matter, Sol? Losin' your nerve?" 

This was a mistake. 

That's what you're thinking as you stand there, staring at the dark, briny water below. Instinctively you take a step away from the edge of the cliff that Eridan's cornered you to, but it takes you closer to him and that doesn't leave you feeling much more safe. 

"This is stupid, ED," you lisp, "Just forget it, alright?" 

"Whale fine, if you're too much of a coward to even jump in, okay," he says, with an over-exaggerated shrug, and you feel like punching him - especially for that dumb fish pun. 

"Why the hell would i want to get in a swimming match with you? I'm not stupid. You're just doing this because you want to see me lose." 

Or, worse - drown. The water makes you nervous, and not just because of the menacing sea-dweller inching you towards it. 

"I am not. I just wanted to see if you would do it." 

"Why?" 

"What does it even matter, if you're too much of a land-lubbin' pussy to even jump?" 

He's trying to get to you, trying to get a rise out of you in some pitiful hope that you'll respond. Trying to get you to reciprocate his stupid caliginous feelings, and you remind yourself of that. 

Damn, but he is good at pushing your buttons, though. 

"Fuck off, ED," you say, and you start to push past him. "I don't have time for your bullshit." 

It happens so fast that you don't even have time to process what's happening before you're falling. You're not sure how he managed to catch you so off guard, but he did, and it's a short matter of time between when he shoves you and when you break the cool surface of the water. 

The shock of impact and the weight of water all around you leaves you reeling, unable to even flounder or struggle against sinking. The surface light quickly grows distant, and only now does panic start to set in - you have to move, you have to try to pull yourself up, but your limbs are rebelling against you, jerking in awkward, futile motions that only seem to drive you farther down. 

There's a disturbance in the water above you, and a shadowy figure descends towards you. A hand around your arm stops you - Eridan. For one dreaded moment you think that this is it - the bastard has you right where he wants you, and it would be an easy matter to finish you off here and now. Maybe he's going to shoot you and let you bleed out into the dark sea, or maybe he's just going to watch as you slowly drown. You can't decide which is worse. 

What he actually does is neither of these things. 

He glubs at you - that's the only way to describe the sound, his voice strange and distorted by the water. Somehow that stupid accent of his sounds more appropriate underwater, and if you had more presence of mind you might wonder at how he's even able to speak here at all. 

"I can help you if you want it."

You don't want it. 

You don't want anything from him, and since all the noise you can make is stifled by the water filling your lungs, you let a rude gesture speak for you. 

"You'll drown if you don't let me," he says, "You don't have much time left, Sol. I'll give you back your breath, but you have to take it." 

Part of you thinks you'd rather drown than give him the satisfaction of saving you. You're not even afraid of dying - you've grown so used to the voices that echo in the back of your mind that it doesn't even seem like it would be a big deal. That's what you'd always thought, anyway - but now that you're faced with it, your body going numb and your mind starting to fade, the only thing you can feel is fear. Fear, and the need to stay alive for even just a moment longer. 

With one last push of adrenaline you grab him and pull him toward you with all the strength that your failing muscles can muster, your lips meeting in a messy collision of teeth and tongues and desperation. He wasn't lying - you can feel your breath return to you, and you clutch at him tighter, greedy for it, needing it and needing him and hating yourself so much for this surrender. 

You barely notice him pulling you upward, tugging you towards the surface with strong, lithe motions that only someone perfectly at home in the water could have. You don't notice anything at all until you break the surface, gasping into the sweet, cold air. There's a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you sputter and cough, and he says, 

"See? I told you I wouldn't let you drown." 

"Fuck you!" You're screaming at him, barely even intelligible, "Just fuck you! You're a fucking piece of shit and I fucking hate you!" 

You try to shove him down, but of course it doesn't work, and all you wind up doing is splashing around futilely. You're in his element now, and he laughs - laughs, damn him - at your frustrated effort. 

"Calm down, Sol."

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down!" 

He smirks - a challenge. 

"What are you goin' to do aboat it, then?" 

You want to shove him away, as if your repulsion could push you both apart like magnets. What happens instead is that you cling to him even tighter, like you're afraid to let him go. Like he's the only thing keeping you from sinking - which is not really far from the truth, but that's beside the point. You can't let him go, no matter how much you think you want to - you won't let him go, and you hate him and you hate yourself so much that somewhere, deep inside of you, that hatred makes the switch into something else entirely. 

The smug bastard's not surprised when you kiss him again, reciprocating with an easy, infuriating self assuredness. It occurs to you then that this was what he wanted all along, and that you've played right into his hands with all of this. 

It also occurs to you that you don't particularly give a damn anymore.


End file.
